


First Impressions Rarely Matter

by dabforpalermo



Series: Parenthood [1]
Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Consensual Kidnapping, Fluff, Grocery Store, M/M, Pickpocketing, what a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:34:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24511636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dabforpalermo/pseuds/dabforpalermo
Summary: Martín raises an eyebrow. “Alright, kid. What can I help you with here? You need money?”She narrows her eyes, sizing him up.“Do you need a place to stay?”Or: Martín accidentally takes in a child
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote
Series: Parenthood [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1771225
Comments: 10
Kudos: 84





	First Impressions Rarely Matter

**Author's Note:**

> idk how copyright works but i do not own any books mentioned in this series

He doesn’t even want to be out. All he wants right now is to be in bed, preferably with Andrés, basking in the sunlight and positioning his body so that the warm rays of the sun hit just over his back, keeping him grounded in the usually cool room. Martín scowls and makes his way toward the grocery store, trying to get his feet to move even quicker than they already are, the image in his mind making his current situation almost unbearable. 

Martín stares at the list Andrés prepared, his eyes already preoccupied by the small heart scribbled in the corner, a signature symbol that Andrés almost always tries to add onto any note he gives Martín. 

‘Went out for a bit, be home before noon. <3’

‘Dinner is in the oven. Please do not attempt to take it out without gloves again. <3’

‘Sergio is staying for the weekend. <3’

He’s not sure if it’s just Andrés’ way of delivering borderline bad news, but even the tenseness of his shoulders melt at the sight of the doodle. He tears his eyes away and runs them along the contents of the list. Eggs, milk, honey, pineapples, strawberries, flour. He memorizes the items and pockets the paper, walking down the unfamiliar isles and attempting to gather everything at record speed. 

Martín carefully places the items in his basket, half-heartedly nodding his head to the beat of the music that plays from the speakers. It’s a disgrace to those records Andrés lives by, the ones that are somehow always playing softly from the workroom, often causing the two to break apart whatever they’re doing and dance across the floor, twirling and holding each other close to the sound of Tárrega folding through the air. 

He waits in line, chewing the skin on the inside of his cheek (Andrés would often grip his face and relax his muscles, stopping him from the nasty habit). The weird stench of a grocery store lingers on his clothes, and he thinks about how he’s gonna have to wash these clothes once he gets back home, then Martín almost laughs. 

It’s ironic. He went from scavenging through dumpsters for food and fighting street rats to complaining about the smell of grocery stores. Andrés really has changed him. 

Speaking of clothes, Martín looks down and realizes he’s wearing all Andrés’ items, a pair of dress pants and a navy button up shirt. He will admit that it’s nice to go outside looking like you own money, which is an experience he got to see for the first time when Andrés started dressing him up, and now when he walks, he feels… different. 

Powerful. Beautiful. 

The words that have never once come to his mind when asked to describe himself now linger in his thoughts, and Martín smiles to himself. Confidence feels good. 

The cashier clears his throat, taking Martín out of his head. He places the items down and takes out his wallet, handing the teenager some cash and pocketing the rest. He holds the two bags and exits the building, an extra pep in his step, proud of himself for surviving such a mundane activity such as grocery shopping. He spots his car and reaches into his pocket for the keys, but Martín freezes when he feels that he isn’t the only one digging in his dress pants, and quickly grabs the wrist of the opposing hand, turning himself around. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

When there isn’t an answer, Martín tightens his grip on the hand, twisting it ever so slightly to cause pain. The thief sucks in a breath and looks to the side. 

“I lost a wallet that looks exactly like that one. I saw it and decided to check it out for myself.”

“Wanna try again?”

“Uh.. it was falling out of your pocket, and I decided to put it back..?”

Martín clenches his fist, the grocery bags sliding from his elbow to his wrist. He stops when he takes in the other's small form. The kid's voice is high, so they’re either a girl, or an embarrassingly prepubescent boy. 

“How old are you?”

“20.”

“I think you would make better use of my time if you started telling the truth.”

The kid mumbles something, so Martín steps closer. 

“What was that?”

“12.”

Martín frowns. “And you just decided to become a teenage pickpocket?”

“You think I like doing this? I’m supposed to be painting my nails and choosing my dress for a school dance, but here I am, being interrogated by some creep.” The teenager looks up, and Martín notes that she definitely is a girl, given her soft features and long, messy hair. 

Martín raises an eyebrow. “Alright, kid. What can I help you with here? You need money?”

She narrows her eyes, sizing him up. 

“Do you need a place to stay?”

That catches her interest. Her eyes slot back to her place in the alley, where the hard cement has already scratched up her back and added a twitch to her neck. She looks back down to his hand around her wrist. 

“How do I know you’re not going to kill me?”

“Let’s just say this, niña, if I wanted to kill you, you would be dead already.”

“Reassuring,” she mumbles, weighing her options. She decides that although a bed isn’t worth risking her life, she would rather die than sleep on the wet ground one more night. “Fine.”

“Alright, come with me. I have groceries.”

Martín walks the two of them to his car, his hand still wrapped around her skinny wrist. She slides into the passenger's seat and stares at him. 

“Are you bringing me home to take advantage of me? I may not carry a rape whistle but I have weapons stored in places you’ll never guess.”

“Calm down. I’ll have you know that one, I would rather carve my eyes out and eat them before I ever look at a child sexually, and two, I’m not into women. Or girls, in your case”. He places the bags in the backseat and sits up front. 

“You could be lying.”

“Well, my friend, I guess you just have to remember the fact that you trusted me enough to get in my car without even asking my name. You shouldn’t do that.”

Martín starts driving, occasionally looking over to the girl to see how she’s doing. 

“What’s your name, then?”

“My name is Martín Berrote. And yours?”

“Sofia,” she answers, looking out the window. It’s a short drive back to the monastery, but it’s far from where she’s stayed all her life. 

“So, you’re homeless?”

“And you’re blunt.”

“I know what it’s like,” Martín says as they pull up at the building. “I spent my whole life on the street.”

“And this is what, a redemption of your youth?”

“This is me trying to be a nice person. But you’re making it pretty difficult.” Martín steps out of the car, sighing quietly. He grabs the two bags and opens Sofia’s door. 

“You live with monks?”

“They stay out of our way.”

“‘Our’?” She questions, following him. 

“My partner and I. Who, in fact, does not know about your arrival.”

“Shit, man. That’s not good. Now he’s gonna kick me out.”

“He will not.” Martín walks into his home, placing the grocery bags on the kitchen table and frowning at Sofia. “You should shower.”

She tightens her jaw and looks around. “Don’t you want to announce my presence first?”

Martín rolls his eyes and walks into a different room, Sofia following behind closely. He stands in the doorway and knocks. 

“Andrés?”

“You’re back! Good, good. I was reviewing the book and we need to call Sergio over soon, maybe for dinner this weekend? He can bring Raquel and that child he always gloats about-” Andrés says, not even looking up from his book. He raises his head and goes silent. “You didn’t tell me we were having guests.”

Sofia steps behind him, not liking his cold stare, and fiddles with her torn shirt. 

“This is Sofia. She didn’t want to surprise you or anything, so I thought I’d introduce you two. Sofia, this is Andrés.”

She waves slowly and tries to get a read on Andrés face, before Martín gently places a hand on her shoulder. “Shower?”

Sofia nods and walks toward the bathroom with Martín, a new wave of shyness coming into her body. She’s hungry, exhausted, and smells like filth, and yet here she is, in the biggest house she’s ever seen with two men who look like they could snap her in half without breaking a sweat. 

“Uh.. I’m assuming you don’t have any other clothes? That’s fine, Andrés’ brother’s girlfriend has probably left some stuff here. I can look.”

“Martín?”

“Hm?”

“Uhm.. if Andrés has a problem with me staying here tonight, please just let me know. I’ve lived on the streets for a while, I don’t need all this luxury now.”

Martín smiles sympathetically. “I know what it’s like, kid, so don’t try to tell yourself you don’t deserve nice things. Although you’re kind of snappy, I think you’re a nice girl, so just leave Andrés to me, and wait for me to get you some clothes.”

Martín leaves, walking into the guest room and digging through the closet. He eventually finds a pair of underwear and leggings that he assumes are Raquels, and adds one of his old t-shirts and a hoodie into the outfit. He walks into the bathroom and places it on the sink, along with a towel. 

“Take as long as you need.”

“Thank you.” She smiles, closing the door and locking it. 

Martín walks back into Andrés’ office, sitting down on the table in front of him. 

“You kidnapped a child?”

“I didn’t kidnap her.”

Andrés sighs and leans forward, placing his hand under his chin. “You found a child on the street and took her. That’s kidnapping.”

“She tried to steal my wallet, I found out she’s living on the street and that she’s twelve, so I offered her a place to stay.”

“So we’re taking in strays now?”

“I can tell she’s a good kid,” Martín defends, a frown on his face. Andrés places his hands on Martín’s thighs. 

“Don’t go all papa bear on me.” 

“Andrés..”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Andrés smiles, stretching his neck and kissing him gently. Before his hands can explode any other parts of his body, Martín grips them, pulling away from the kiss. 

“There’s a child in the home.”

“Oh lord. If I had known this was the outcome I wouldn’t have sent you shopping.”

Martín rubs his thumbs over Andrés’ knuckles. “We’ve never talked about having children, but hey, I think you’d make a good dad.”

Andrés rolls his eyes. “And why is that?”

“You’re strong. Protective. You have all that wisdom and nowhere to pass it on to.” Martín brings his hand to his lips and kisses it gently. “At least give this a chance?”

“Fine. For you.” 

Martín grins and kisses him quickly, hopping off the table. “Great. I’ll go make sure the guest room is set up.”

Andrés watches him leave, a sigh on his lips and his work long abandoned. He picks up his pencil and tries to scribble some annotations of the words on his book, but once he stares at the same line for 5 minutes, he groans and places it on the table once again. He’s interrupted by a soft knock on the door and turns.

“Hm?”

“Uh.. I don’t.. Martín left the clothes out but I don’t know where he is so..”

“He’s in the guest room.” Andrés answers. His shoulders are tense at the mere thought of a child roaming free in his home. “I can take you.”

Sofia walks over to him, frowning down at the book and picking it up. “Imperial Spain? Are you doing a third grade history project?”

Andrés blinks. “I thought it would be helpful to review my lessons.”

“There are a million better history books.”

“Like you’ve read them all.”

“I have. Or at least every one I’ve come across.”

Andrés takes the book from her grasp and frowns. “So you lived by the library?”

“Sometimes. Never moved too far from there. It’s warm, free, and sometimes the librarian would give me food if I were there for too long. Plus, I could read anything I wanted.”

“Let me show you something.” Andrés stands, walking out of the room and feeling the girl’s presence behind him. He moves down the familiar hallways, opening a door and stepping inside. 

“Woah..”

“Practically every book you could imagine. As well as digital copies, but those hurt my eyes if I look at them for too long.”

“Holy shit, this is awesome!” Sofia moves past him, running her fingers along the delicate spines of the books placed on one of the many bookshelves. She takes out a random one and grins. 

“Have you read all of these?”

Andrés shrugs. “I try to. Of course I haven’t gotten to all of them, but with time. I can.. I can give you some recommendations if you’d like?”

Andrés clenches his fingers at his side. He sounds insecure and timid, like Martín when he’s ordering food at a restaurant without practicing in his head many times. He’s always been amused by his boyfriend’s anxious deminior, but now, he feels the nerves settling deep in his stomach, and he can’t quite place why. 

“Sure! That’d be awesome. Maybe you could write them down so when I go back I can find them in the library.”

Andrés winces at that. He wants to reassure the child, tell her that their home is open to her, but he can’t find the words, so instead he nods. Before he can make a greater fool of himself, Martín appears at the door. 

“You scared me. I have to put a leash on you.” Martín teases Andrés, wrapping an arm around his waist and smiling toward Sofia, who’s too preoccupied with the books to notice his appearance. 

“Your tendency to wander is rubbing off on me.” Andrés smirks, looking away. 

Sofia turns to them with a smile on her face. “How many other cool rooms do you have here?”

“This is basically it. The rest of the rooms are mostly guest and bathrooms,” Andrés answers, trying to regain his stoic composure. 

“Still cool.” Sofia picks up a book and nods. “Can I read this tonight?”

“Of course.” Martín smiles, pulling his hand from Andrés’ waist and brushing a wrinkle off of his shirt. “I’ll take you to your room.”

Andrés leans against the door as they walk past him, letting out a small sigh and fixing his hair. True to his words, Martín has never once brought up the idea of children, and Andrés just assumed they were fine on their own, since they’re both older now and probably wouldn’t adopt a baby unless it was dropped on their doorstep mysteriously. He’s seen the way parenthood has shaped a person, watching Denver mature from a giggly and irresponsible mess to somebody who believes in bedtimes again. It’s scary to say the least. Andrés stands up straight and walks back into his study, hoping to get a bit more work out before dinner, but finds his mind is preoccupied by the thought of the girl, and his brain filled with worries and doubts.

For the first time in years, Andrés is unsure of what to do next.

**Author's Note:**

> i want to turn this into a series so if y'all have any ideas for what you want to see with this trio please let me know !!


End file.
